Snowballs!
by Arty Diane
Summary: It all began with John and Sherlock chasing their quarry in a snow covered country side. The chase led to interesting results. The duo decide to prank some of the people they know for Christmas. First stop: Mycroft!
1. Snow, snow, every where

**A/N:This story started as response to a challenge in Mrs Hudson's kitchen by AleesNox, it was:**

**A Sherlock story about winter that mentions ice, snow, cold wind or some other seasonally appropriate weather as an integral part of the story. **_(Bonus points if you mention Sherlock's coat.)_

**Then I had a few inspirations wacked in my head by my muse (blame her for the little weird part in the second segment) and an idea from my sister. And after that the story took a life of it's own and decided to encompass the second challenge for Christmas as well...**

**I don't own own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I just involved them with a few snow balls!**

* * *

**Snowballs:**

A flock of sparrows were fluttering cheerfully in the snow, picking crumbs in the brilliant winter morning. They were passed unnoticed by the consulting detective and his companion. John was listening to Sherlock as he told him his deductions.

"Therefore our witness is a thrill seeking teenaged skier named Chuck and he has come to this god-forsaken place to have a good slide. We must find him quickly and return him to London, the success of the case depends on it."

"So all we need to do is to find the best snow covered hills and wait for him to show up."

"Well, John, I wouldn't s-" *PLUNK* Sherlock's face turned to the right by the force of the impact. Bits of snow clung to his hair and face. He whipped around to glare in the direction the offending snow ball had come from. His eyes caught sight of a scrawny teenaged boy in colorful winter gear, carrying a light sleigh over his shoulder. He was snickering at them. The cheeky little hooligan was their witness for the case, and here he was taunting them!

John and Sherlock's eyes narrowed and they sprinted after him together. Sherlock's coat soared dramatically after him as he ran through the snow after his quarry. John followed him with the same enthusiasm -and less drama! - trying hard not to fall behind.

The runaway witness took a sharp left turn and disappeared behind a building. John didn't have enough time to ponder the seemingly paradoxical situation of the kid, as Sherlock slipped on a piece of ice when he tried to take the left turn. John hurried forward and managed to grab Sherlock's arm. It was no use. John's momentum sent them skidding a good ten yards from their intended turn and over a snow covered hill.

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The winter sun shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the pristine snow covered scenery. Two white figures glittered in the brilliant light.

"Are you up to this Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Just so you know, I wouldn't have done it any differently."

"It's good to know John. I'm glad you're here to assist me."

"It's been an honor."

"No need to get sentimental John!"

"Kill-joy!" John muttered under his breath.

The two ethereal figures looked up at the winding sliding path. Their teenaged fugitive was standing on top of the hill and preparing his sleigh.

"Are you sure this will work, Sherlock?"

"Only one way to find out!"

The teenaged boy let out a whoop "Look out below!" and launched himself on the winding slope. As he reached the bottom of the hill, he was roughly caught by strong hands and pulled back and off of his sleigh. He was put upright on the ground. As soon as he found his footing he looked up.

"Aaaaa!"

John winced "that was a pretty shrill shriek for a boy your age!"

"I've been grabbed by a pair of ghosts! Are you guys going to haunt me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes "We caught you. That means the hunt is over. Do keep up!" then something occurred to him "What do you mean by _ghosts_?"

Chuck opened and closed his mouth a few times until he managed to actually make a sound. "I mean you two! You're cold and covered all in white!" His voice got shriller as he went on.

A mischievous glint flickered in John's eyes. "Did you expect us to let you go that easily?"

"You're essential to the case." Sherlock interjected.

"We will not rest until we take care of our unfinished business."

The teenager shivered at this. John continued, "You'll cooperate with us or else!"

Chuck was trembling by now. "I'm sorry! I was just having a bit of fun, I didn't mean to kill you, it was an accident!" he wailed.

Sherlock stopped shaking his coat to get the snow of off it and turned to them. "What are you talking about? Who died?"

"YOU DID! That's why you're haunting me, isn't it?"

Sherlock sniffed "I think I'd remember something as important as my own death!"

"But you don't!" the teenager insisted, "You're still in shock, and you haven't come to terms with it yet!"

"I think you're the one in shock!" Sherlock said disdainfully and returned his attention to removing the clinging snow from his clothes.

John couldn't hold himself any longer and started laughing. The boy looked at him bemused "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist it!" Then John cleared his throat and composed himself, "Actually, I'm not sorry at all. You caused us to tumble down a rather tall hill covered with _a lot_ of snow. We had to fight our way out a snow ball we were caught in."

"A snow ball? Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit John?" Sherlock interrupted.

John pressed on as if the interruption hadn't happened. "I don't know how long it'll us to get all this snow out of our clothes before we freeze to death. If we freeze then I'm definitely going to hunt you down and haunt you till the end of your days, do you understand me?"

Chuck nodded his head vigorously.

"Good, now come along to the station, you had your slide. We're going back to London and you are going to testify." Then John turned to Sherlock. "Leave it Sherlock, you'll get it out in the station. Just, let's get out of this blasted wind before our noses fall off!"

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John and Sherlock sat in their train compartment. They had entrusted Chuck to a country Constable who happened to be traveling to London on that very day. John wiped away some of the fog on the window so that he could take a look outside. The view was a bit wavy, as if they were looking through a screen of water. A light snow was falling from the sky, covering the trees and buildings in a soft white dust.

"It looks like a Christmas card." John said absently.

Sherlock grunted. He was sitting on the seat facing John. He had opened the buttons of his coat but had refused to take it off completely. The dark material pooled around him and it had slightly slid off his shoulders as he began to feel warmer by degrees.

"I should send out Christmas cards." John said while staring out the window.

"Why would you want to do such a thing?"

"Because, it's what people do to show that they care about the recipient."

"Sounds boring."

"I take it you don't send out Christmas cards."

"I don't send out any cards."

Sherlock saw a devious smile spread across John's face. "You know Sherlock, sending Christmas cards doesn't have to be boring…"

Sherlock smirked "What do you have in mind John?"

"There are a whole lot of pranks we could pull by using this opportunity. I remember Harry pulled a nice prank on one of her class mates for Valentine's Day when she was in high school. We can use a similar technique for our Christmas cards."

Sherlock leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. "Tell me more about Christmas cards!"

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**What do you think? Who do you think they'll prank and how? I'd love to hear your ideas.**

**I also invite you to write a story of how those two will prank others for Christmas or how they're pranked!**


	2. Pranking Mycroft

**Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Sorry it's a bit late; I had to figure out the perfect prank for John and Sherlock to pull on Mycroft. I wrote it as soon as I got the whack in head from my muse!**

**I made up all the technological stuff in this story. The musical greeting cards are real though...**

**Marylouleach requested a prank on Mycroft, and my sister requested an epic payback. Hope you'll all enjoy! **

**I don't own the characters of BBC Sherlock, I'm just pranking them!**

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**Snowball pranks: Mycroft**

Sherlock bent over the stacks of Christmas greeting cards. How did people come up with the sheer amount of variety for a single holiday was beyond him. No wonder people are so dull, they spend all their time and energy on something as mundane as holidays!

"Well, Sherlock, you're spending your time on Christmas, so don't go judging us mere mortals now!" John interrupted Sherlock's train of thought. He straightened and stared at John. Sometimes the army doctor could be scary.

"Just returning the favor!" John said airily.

"How on earth did you know what I was thinking John?"

"When you were looking at the greeting cards you had your what-is-it-like-in-your-funny-little-brains face, then when I commented on it you were surprised, which indicates my guess was accurate. Yes, I know, you're rubbing off on me."

Sherlock scowled. John grinned, "Annoying, isn't it?"

"Very!" Sherlock replied darkly. He randomly picked a card and opened it. An electronic and grating Christmas tune stated to play. Sherlock winced and quickly closed the card. "Where do people come up with these horrid monstrosities?"

"Allow me to introduce: Sherlock, musical card, musical card, Sherlock."

"Very funny John!"

John chuckled. "Oh, come on Sherlock, cheer up! You wanted me to show you Christmas cards and here we are. You don't have to get a generic one, there are cards that can be customized." John walked to another stand and pulled out a card randomly and handed it to Sherlock. "Something like this, you can record your message on it", John handed him another, "or this one, you can write whatever you want on the inside."

Sherlock looked at the cards in his hands. The recordable card had a Christmas tree with red bulbs on it. He scowled at it and handed it back. The other one had a cartoonish boy sliding down a white slope on a sleigh. Sherlock tilted his head at it and John saw his expression soften.

"Did you go on sleigh rides often when you were a boy, Sherlock?"

"No."

"Did you ever want to try it?"

"What does it matter, John? It's something in the past and beyond my control. I don't see the point in continuing on this subject." Sherlock was becoming irritated.

John quickly changed the subject, "These recordable cards have so much potential for becoming prank tools, you know!" He waved a card with a wreath on it in front of Sherlock.

"How so?"

"Do you remember in the second book of Harry Potter angry parents sent Howlers for their kids?" John continued after seeing Sherlock's confused expression, "Audio letters that screamed the message with a rock-concert-worthy volume, we can do something like that."

Sherlock opened the blank card and inspected it. "I don't think they have the capability to produce such volumes." He muttered, "What are the components of these cards by the way?"

"Um, a cardboard card, and a sound module I suppose."

"A sound module?"

"Ya, a unit made of a cheap speaker and a microchip of sorts."

"Did you say microchip?" Sherlock perked up.

The corner of John's mouth started to pull up. "What do you have in mind?"

Sherlock held the recordable card in front of his eyes. He had a full blown mischievous grin on his face. "I think it's high time I send my dear brother a Christmas greeting card, don't you?"

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John was looking at the computer screen over Sherlock's Shoulder. Sherlock clicked the mouse button.

Plunk!

John giggled. Sherlock smirked and clicked again.

Plunk!

John was giggling uncontrollably and Sherlock was chuckling now. This went on for about half an hour until they managed to compose themselves.

"What if they find it too soon?"

"Don't underestimate my abilities John. They'll never know what _hit_ them!"

"This is so funny, maybe I'll use this later after we're finished pranking Mycroft with it!" John snickered, "By the way, won't it cripple the system for too long if they can't find it?"

"I'm not that cruel, John. I set a limit for it."

"How many?" Sherlock showed him the number on the screen. John whistled, "Christ, that's a lot!"

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Anthea sorted out the mail of her boss and placed them in front of him. Mycroft picked up the stack and went through them. Christmas cards from diplomats and ministers from all around the world. Heck, some of these countries didn't even celebrate Christmas; politics could be so tedious sometimes. It was at times like these that he envied Sherlock and the anti-social façade he had made for himself.

As if on cue, an envelope with Sherlock's name caught his eye. It was a large envelope made of a thick cream colored paper with Sherlock's handwriting on it. Mycroft weighed the parcel in his hand. It was sort of heavy but the shape suggested it to be a card, a very thick card too.

Mycroft's curiosity got the better of him and he tore off the top of the envelope with a letter opener. He pulled out a festive green Christmas card with snowflakes out. It was one of those horrid musical greeting cards, with that god awful music they played out of those cheap excuses of speakers.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and opened the card. What greeted him was not what he had expected. Soft, melodious violin music filled the room. It took a moment for Mycroft to recover from his shock and place the notes as belonging to "silent night", his favorite Christmas carol. He looked at the inscription, it read "Merry Christmas Brother, try not to ruin your diet in these festive times!"

Mycroft smiled and shook his head fondly. Leave it to Sherlock to show his affection in the most unusual way. Mycroft pitied the poor DI who worked with his brother, goodness knows what kind of inscription he'll get from his brother, most probably something along the lines of "Merry Christmas. I hope your deductive abilities improve enough so I wouldn't have to solve all of your cases for you!"

Just then an agitated technician hurried into the room. "We're under attack!" she panted.

Mycroft placed her as one of the surveillance team; she was in charge of the Backer Street flat to be precise. "How so?" He asked her calmly.

"The surveillance footage shows objects similar to snowballs being thrown at the cameras, but there is no one on the screen!"

Mycroft bent down on his desk and opened the Baker Street surveillance window on his computer. All seemed fine until-

Plunk!

A snowball hit the screen and the snow slowly slipped off. Just before the snow cleared from the screen another one hit the screen just where the mouse cursor was. As Mycroft moved the mouse a string of snowballs hit the screen, following its course.

"It's a virus; get the IT team on it." Mycroft said blandly.

"They're already on it; they've been working on it for half an hour now. They're baffled by it, no matter what they do, they can't even find it!"

"Are you telling me that the best IT technicians in the country can't deal with a simple computer virus?"

"It's a very sophisticated virus; we haven't seen the likes of it before! We can't even figure out how it got in the system."

"A 'sophisticated' virus?" Mycroft snorted "Please, I would have said this is funny if it wasn't so inconvenient, it's more in line of a teenager pulling a-" his eyes drifted to the musical card from Sherlock and it dawned on him "-prank." Well, at least the mystery of how the virus had entered the system was solved. The sound module in that card must have contained a Bluetooth or Wi-Fi device in it as well, sending the virus into the system when it passes the nearest computer in the building.

"What should we do about it sir? An attack of this caliber can be a threat to national security!"

"Hardly, just keep count of the thrown snowballs and report the number when they're finished."

"Sir?"

Mycroft's eyes were gleaming dangerously. "Do as I told you. I have to think of a nice snowball to throw back!"

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The technicians had given up on eliminating the virus long ago and had decided to have a bit of fun with the virtual snowballs, since their computers were practically useless for doing anything else.

"Ha! I managed to dodge 30 snowballs! Top that Sam!"

"Great, how many times were hit in the face Mark?"

"Fifty." Mark slumped a bit at that confession.

Anthea smirked. "I dodged 80 and got hit ten times."

Mark and Sam were gaping at her.

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Mycroft ushered his mouse cursor to the window and quickly moved it away. Three snowballs hit the screen in its wake, but none of them hit the mouse pointer. Mycroft gave the screen an amused half smile. He remembered how he longed to have snowball fights when he was a boy. But oh no! The posh little snobs he went to school with were above such trivialities. Self-satisfied, stuffy brats!

He sighed as he looked up to see Anthea standing beside his desk. "I take it the attacks have seized?"

"Yes sir, they have."

"Have you taken account of the thrown snowballs?"

Anthea handed him a paper with the figure on it. Mycroft's eyebrows rose.

"What are you going to do sir?"

Mycroft smirked, "I think it's high time I sent my little brother a New Year's greeting card, don't you?"

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John and Sherlock were staring out of the door of their flat. Well, staring into a wall of snow, to be precise. Sherlock slammed the door shut before the snow could cave in and bury them. They rushed upstairs.

"I'm so glad Mrs. Hudson has gone to her sister's house for the holidays. I don't know how she would have reacted to this!" John said as he closed the door of 221B behind him.

Sherlock grunted while pacing around the room. He glanced out of the window and froze in his tracks. John noticed the change right away. They both went over to the window and looked out. They sucked in their breaths simultaneously as the sheer scope of their predicament became clear to them.

A gigantic pie of snow was settled in front of number 221, blocking the door and windows of the ground floor and reaching high up in front of the their window. On the peak of this snow hill was a red envelope. Sherlock reached out and took it. He opened the envelope with the jack knife on the mantle and pulled out a cardboard greeting card. He opened the fold of the card to read "the equivalent of 3,000,000 snowballs, Happy New Year!"

Sherlock was roused from his stupor by John's exclamation, "Oh, look Sherlock! The kid on this card looks so much like you!"

Sherlock turned the card in his hand to look at the picture. It was a cartoonish boy on a sleigh, sliding down a white slope. He wore a black coat and his blue scarf was flying behind him. A mop of black curls was peaking from under his hat with ear flaps. Sherlock snorted after noticing that last detail.

He heard a clatter and looked up to see John entering the living room carrying two lightweight sleighs. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at John as he was handed one of the sleighs.

"I don't know what possessed me to get these, I'm just glad I did!" John told him in way of answer.

Sherlock held the sleigh in his hand and stared at it. John handed him his scarf and a matching blue knitted hat. "Put these on Sherlock, we don't want you to catch a cold now!"

"Are we going to do what I think we're going to do?" Sherlock asked a little nervously.

"Well, there's only one way out of the flat, and going with a sleigh is much more comfortable than going on a piece of cardboard." John calmly explained.

They climbed out of the window and stepped on the snow hill. John beamed at Sherlock. "Ready?"

Sherlock was grinning madly "As ready as I'll ever be!"

"Great! On the count of three, one, two, three, Wheeeee!"

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**Hopefully Sally and Anderson will be next!**


End file.
